I arrived, yesterday, at Turner around 3 pm. The Copshop Skatejam was over, but the park was still packed with kids, mostly younger, with mothers and fathers hanging around on the grass. There was a cluster of slightly older kids sitting on the ledge, and two officers surveying the park from atop the volcano. The police VW bug was parked beside a pavilion under which some people were seated behind laptops. This was the "Harvey's" people: professional photographers who took photos of the kids, then offered them free prints, with a promotional cover that had their own, and the Hamilton Police logo emblazoned on it.
The punk youth whom I first met at Beasley, and who skated with me in the shade in the dumpster alley beside Turner at the Flatspot jam (see below) showed me the photo he had received. He was very pleased. I asked if Oldschool or the other HSA guys had shown up, and he said they hadn't. The youth was enthusiastic about the Cop Jam saying "they are giving skateboarding a whole new respectability". It was odd to hear this praise from the mouth of one of the most visibly rebellious and "hardcore" of the skaters who frequent Turner. It seems as though the Cop Jam had given him a sense of legitimacy and acceptance. He had done a great paint job on his grip tape...also kind of oldschool, and not such a common thing amongst modern skaters.
I skated around a bit. The crowds quickly thinned out, but it was still slightly busy. I had a head cold, so I wasn't landing tricks consistently. Also, the tail of my board has ground down to the point where it is difficult to navigate certain tricks. I landed a nice blunt to pivot/variel out on the curb, and a very crisp fakiegrind to fakie shove-it out on the ledge. Mostly, I just hot-dogged around.
I caught the bus home using the transfer I had received on the way up, as I lost my student card on Thursday due to a series of highjinks. I was overheated and sweating on the bus ride downtown, but hadn't had time to buy a carton of OJ as I had planned. The sun was streaming through the windows of the new, accordion style bus (Hamilton seems to have added a number of them to its routes over the summer). I got off near the bus station and went to Tim Hortons' where I bought a medium Ice Cap to celebrate the day. My mom called and I talked to her for a while.
It was such a nice afternoon that I didn't want to go home, so I passed by the Bease, where Mort, Sean, Jill and some kids were sitting on the ledge. We chatted a bit. Jill had been to the cop jam and said that it was weird, with strange trick categories, like most 360s and high-jumps. It was the first time I had talked with Jill, who comes across as a cool tom-boy type and reaffirms Beal's thesis that girl skaters are only accepted if they can prove themselves as cool and skilled as the guys. There was also a conversation that involved distinguishing herself from another girl skater whom she used to hang out with and who became a lesbian.
There were all kinds of kids on bikes clogging up the park, and quite a few cars parked there as well. It is as if, for lack of skaters, the park had been appropriated for other uses. Then D. showed up (I was actually on my way to his house, but was saved the journey). He had new fat green wheels on his board (which has a "team asshole" "finger" sticker set into the grip tape). He also had a new pair of gardening gloves. He proceeded to tare up the park, but was thwarted by the kids on bikes, whom he chastised and told to "go try to bike in a tennis court and see how long you last". He was polite but forceful, and the biker kids soon dispersed (these were not BMXers, but little kids, mostly of immigrants, on bikes.
In fact, there was an exchange, before Drew arrived, between Mort, Jill and three BMXers who were looking for directions to Copp's Colliseum (where bikers like to ride on the roof). Jenny said "sorry guys, you can't get there from here" in a tough guy, "locals only" kind of voice. Mort was friendlier, and Jill came around too. They talked about the lack of spots for BMXing, and Jenny encouraged them to orginize themselves and petition the city (not that she has ever come to an HSA meeting!). It was an establishing of hierarchies or dominance that was interesting to watch, with Jill feeling a greater need to demonstrate her power position in relation to the bikers than Matt.
After Drew skated for a while, Gary and Pluto arrived in their van. They had two wedge ramps that Gary had made in the back, and brought them out. Mort unlocked the plastic bench and they placed this in the middle of the two ramps to create a barrier over which they could launch. The bench has been at Bease for about two years. It is locked to the streetlamp with a strong cable and three padlocks. This, Pluto explained is so that nobody can snip them off (there isn't enough room, with the three locks, to get a pair of cutters in). Pluto said "if they want it that bad, they would have to saw through the cable by hand".
I asked Drew about the Copshop Jam, and he said that they seemed to have it under wraps, so he didn't feel the need to attend. He didn't seem resentful, just happy to let them "do their thing".
After a while, Sean moved on of the ramps against the side of the Widow Maker (quarter pipe), using it to try a variety of wall ride moves. I was tired of skating by this time, and started photographing Sean. He wanted to catch some wallrides on his Iphone, so he asked Mort, who obliged him. Then he stared to do some wallies, and I offerd to do the filming. The relation between filmer and rider is an interesting one; it's like being one of the "they boys". But I'm still something of an outsider. Sean did several tries, and I captured a few of them. Then he set the ramp up the tall way, and we tried some wall rides. I actually managed to ride it, but couldn't land it because the space was kind of tight. Derek said, "that's pretty good". I then tried a fronside "no comply" off the side of the ramp, after which Sean said "that gives me an idea" and one-upped me with a backside no-comply of the side, which he actually landed. I left not long after that. It was getting onto seven, and dusk was descending on the second last day of summer.
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